


one single thread of gold (tied me to you)

by imfallingforyoureyes102



Series: On the Outside Looking In [19]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: All the warm feelings, CEO Oliver Queen, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Executive Assistant Felicity Smoak, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, outside looking in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imfallingforyoureyes102/pseuds/imfallingforyoureyes102
Summary: "Her toes leave the ground as she balances forward on the cool stone of the rooftop ledge, trying to catch a glimpse of the two birds, and suddenly Oliver’s there, right next to her, his finger looping into the belt of her dress and tugging her back gently as if he does it every day.It’s as if they are magnets - as if they are tied together by some sort of unbreakable invisible string. Their shadows chase each other across the pale grey stone, one tall and broad and all encompassing, the other a whirlwind of swinging pony tails and flowing dresses.She moves, he moves.Moira wonders if Oliver even realizes he’s doing it."(Or, at a business dinner on the rooftop of the finest restaurant in Starling, a pair of blue birds grab the attention of a certain blonde. It’s Moira and a couple of Queen Consolidated executives that get to witness the intricate dance that exists between Oliver and Felicity, and with the setting sun painting the sky red and gold, there’s an unquestionable warmth that burns vibrantly within every single one of them.)
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: On the Outside Looking In [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1319063
Comments: 87
Kudos: 434





	one single thread of gold (tied me to you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends, long time no see! I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe. This year has definitely been an incredibly difficult one for everyone, and I know it's not much but I love you all and am here for any of you should you need it!
> 
> This past week, my University was faced with a devastating tragedy. Two students were killed in an accident and one is in the hospital in critical condition. Whatever faith you are, if you could keep all of them and their families and close friends in your prayers, I'm sure it be very appreciated. I didn't know any of them personally, but a few close friends of mine did and I cannot even begin to imagine how one gets past something like that. 
> 
> It just really reminded me of how fragile life is - how out of control many things are and how every single moment we are breathing is one to be cherished. It also reminded me of the humanity in people - how tighlty a previously disconnected community can come back together during difficult times. Life sucks sometimes, but it's also the best thing we have. 
> 
> I love and appreciate you all so so much and I hope you know just how of an impact you have in my everyday life. Whenever I'm down, I always know that this community of Arrow nerds can pick me back up.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this little story my brain made up! I had a few paragraphs of this written for _months_ and finally figured out something to work it into. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Stay safe!
> 
> (And yes, there are Taylor Swift references in here because how could there not be).

Moira Queen smiles leisurely, nodding her head in time with the words slipping softly from Mr. Johnson’s mouth. Her fingertips dance against her leg as she leans back into her chair, and the soft lull of music seems to wrap around the intimate rooftop setting with a warmth akin to glowing embers. 

Dinner’s already been served, everyone happily satiated with Starling City’s finest Italian cuisine. Moira likes dinners like these – when they’re less formal and more about keeping up an image than talking business. 

It’s easier this way. 

Simpler. 

When Oliver and Thea were little, these were the type of dinners they actually enjoyed because there was less talk about money and more laughing and dancing and - ,

Moira’s eyes dart over to her children, her stomach shifting between contentment and the warm burn of nostalgia. Thea sits as perfect as ever, all poise and charm and elegance, and though Moira tries and tries to catch her eye, Thea keeps her gaze firmly planted on old Mr. Johnson. She’s relentless, her girl, and the second Moira had tried to suggest Thea dance with Mr. Johnson’s grandson, she had turned away sharply with a red blush and agitated frown.

Moira pulls her mouth into a small smile before turning her gaze to her eldest child, and her heart expands exponentially as a soft laugh slips past her lips.

Oliver’s  _ tipsy _ . 

It’s a rare sight these days, if even a sight at all. The Oliver that had stepped off of the Chinese freighter almost a year ago had been worlds away from the young boy that had boarded the Gambit. Where the Oliver of the past would have been hesitant to attend an event like this without the promise of models and booze, the man that now sits before Moira is one that values control over chaos. 

Oliver’s gaze flickers leisurely to Moira, and the slight twinkle in his eyes pulls her breath away more than any moment ever could because  _ her boy is here, he’s safe, he’s alive. _

Oliver’s definitely had more than a bit of wine tonight - more than she’d seen him drink since coming back from the island. To everyone else, however, he’s the pinnacle of composure and control - all sharp eyes and quick reactions and an almost unnerving level of alertness. 

But Moira knows her son – she can see the slight flush that covers the tops of his cheeks and the way his jaw has lost is near constant bite.

He’s looser, more relaxed, his eyebrows not so furrowed – his eyes not as narrowed.

What really let’s Moira know that Oliver’s had his fair share of wine, though, is the way he stares fondly at the blonde sitting at his side. His smiles are wider, almost child-like, his eyes brighter, and when a question is tossed Oliver’s way, he uses his hands so expressively – so leisurely – that it blurs the line between before the island and after and Moira lets out a shaky breath.

The intensity is still there, sure. Oliver’s never  _ not _ been intense.

But the edges that usually surround him –the tug of his shoulders and the set of his jaw that are normally sharp and rigid and harsh – are smoother than they had ever been.

Moira watches Oliver watching Felicity for a while longer before letting her gaze shift to the focus of Oliver’s attention herself. The blonde IT genius is focused on the wine glass in front of her, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses as she mentally measures the amount left in the glass. Moira knows about the woman’s love for red wine – there’s an empty spot in the Queen wine cellar for a 1982 Lafite Rothschild after all – and for a second, all Moira sees is a young, radiant woman that seems to pull away all the shadows from around Oliver’s being.

Two small objects flit over the table, their shadows ghosting over the faces of everyone below.

Felicity’s face snaps to the side, her eyes widening as she takes in the blurred forms of two blue birds zipping by. Her gaze stays trained on them in fascination, but her arm reaches out, absentmindedly patting at Oliver’s left bicep to get his attention.

Oliver’s eyes are on her immediately, shifting away from Mr. Johnson’s elaborate hand gestures at the end of the table and towards the blonde. Oliver’s attention was never his anyway – anyone in the room can see that – but it’s still astonishing just how quickly Felicity is able to pull Oliver’s everything to her.

Felicity’s hand tightens around Oliver’s forearm as he leans closer to her, his shoulder pressing against her own, and he quirks an amused eyebrow in question.

“Look,” she whispers, a gleeful laugh sneaking past her lips as she pushes her chair back and rises from her seat. She moves freely, completely unaware of the world around her as she turns from where she stands to follow the flight of the birds.

Her hand falls to Oliver again, this time lightly squeezing his shoulder, before she’s gently tugging at his arm. She pulls Oliver up and out of his chair with a striking ease, her focus still entirely oriented towards the pair of birds, and Oliver lets her, an easy smile stretching its way onto his face.

“Oliver,  _ look _ ,” She repeats in awe, her voice light and wonderstruck as she marches to the edge of the rooftop terrace. She tugs Oliver along behind her as she weaves around the many tables and dancing couples, his hand grasped firmly in one of her own.

“Those,” Felicity says breathlessly as she halts at the edge and spins to face Oliver with a blinding smile, “are the same birds from the office.”

Moira watches as Oliver completely misses the words coming from the small blonde’s mouth, a tender smile laced with a lifetime’s worth of affection taking permanent residence on his face instead. His eyes are warmer than Moira thinks they’ve ever been, and they’re so insistent - so intently focused on Felicity - that it’s almost startling. 

Felicity tilts her head, an amused smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. It’s obvious that Felicity’s waiting for some sort of response from Oliver - it’s also obvious that she’s probably not going to get one - but then Oliver’s realizing that he’s definitely missed a part of the conversation and his eyebrow arches sharply in question.

“What?” His voice comes out all low and gravely, as if he had just been pulled back to the surface of whatever ocean his thoughts had been swimming in. Felicity just smiles at him, happy to watch him try and mentally backpedal through their short conversation. He stares at her for a few seconds, his eyes flashing upward in thought, before the sharp arch of his eyebrow is replaced with a small furrow and a matching pout. 

Felicity snorts, a hand reaching out to pat him sympathetically on the chest. 

“Oh, it’s a good thing you’ve got such a pretty face, Oliver Queen.” 

Oliver’s eyebrows furrow, his mouth opening and closing before he presses his lips together in a tight frown.

His affronted “ _ hey”  _ slips into the space between them, but Felicity just flashes another one of her sunbeam grins before turning her attention back to the chattering birds. 

Felicity tip toes slowly to where they are perched. The entire rooftop terrace is surrounded by a wide stone wall and the two small birds swoop so close to the surface that Oliver swears he can hear the sound of their feather skimming the stone. 

Felicity halts at the edge. Her eyes sweep the length of the stone slabs before she’s suddenly leaning forward, folding her body over the wide ledge to get a better look. 

Her toes leave the ground as she balances forward on the cool stone of the rooftop ledge, and suddenly Oliver’s there, right next to her, his finger looping into the belt of her dress and tugging her back gently as if he does it every day.

Felicity’s not phased by his motions in the slightest, instead turning completely to follow the way the birds zig zag through the dimming sky. She moves quickly and precariously – far closer to the edge than any other sane person would stand – but it’s the way her face is void of any fear that draws the Queen Matriarch’s attention further away from the conversations simmering at the dinner table.

Moira knows Miss Smoak is weary of heights – she sees it every time she walks into Oliver’s office to find Felicity glaring through the tall glass windows down to the pavement below with a deeply skeptical and almost offended expression plastered on her face

But now she moves effortlessly,  _ dancing _ along the perimeter of the rooftop, reaching her body over the wide barricades to follow the movement of the birds. It’s a sharp 180 from the minimum three feet distance Felicity normally keeps from all things elevated, and a small part of Moira starts to wonder if maybe it’s Miss Smoak that had a little too much to drink.

But then Felicity moves again, and Oliver moves alongside her almost instantly.

The action is so thoughtless - so  _ natural  _ \- and an unquestionable warmth floods through the Queen Matriarch as she watches the slight dance of push and pull between the two of them. 

Moira had learned quite quickly of the level of trust that Oliver placed in Felicity, even if she had no understanding of it herself.

It’s enough to move mountains, the sheer magnitude of unshakeable faith that Oliver holds for her. And, while Oliver is adamant about the platonic nature of their relationship -  _ she’s just a friend, Mom -  _ it’s still a striking thing to see. More than a few executives and board members have already brought up the wonder surrounding every little facet of Queen Consolidated’s CEO and his executive assistant, and the way they stand now does nothing to dissipate it. 

Oliver trusts Felicity, more than anyone and anything. It’s one of the easiest things to pick up on, even in a room full of people. But for Moira to see the trust that Felicity has in  _ him  _ – to see someone view her son in a light so pure and untouched by the atrocities of the world - , 

Moira clears her throat softly, blinking away at the wetness that sears her eyes.

Her gaze sweeps between Oliver and Felicity, their silhouettes outlined by the warm glow of the reddening sky as the sun dips below the city skyline. Moira watches the way the two mirror each other, in awe at the ease with which pure muscle memory seems to take over their movements and guide their banter. 

It’s as if they are magnets - as if they are tied together by some sort of unbreakable invisible string.

Their shadows chase each other across the pale grey stone, one tall and broad and all encompassing, the other a whirlwind of swinging pony tails and flowing dresses. 

She moves, he moves. 

Moira wonders if Oliver even realizes he’s doing it.

Felicity shuffles closer to the birds, her eyes squinting against the last rays of sunlight as she tries to get a better look. The smaller of the two turns its body towards Felicity, and the excited giggle that filters back towards the table is enough to pull the attention of the rest of the dinner party. 

Mr. Johnson’s voice still sounds throughout the entirety of the room, but his words falter for a split second as he takes in Felicity’s wide grin and Oliver’s unusually comfortable stance. The small stutter goes unnoticed for the most part, however, with a majority of the table already having split their attention between the dinner conversation and the interaction going on between Queen Consolidated’s broody billionaire CEO and his whip-smart genius of an Executive Assistant. 

The blue bird hops closer towards Felicity, its head tilted in curiosity before it lets out a chime-like chirp. Felicity’s smile spreads wide across her face, then, her eyes bright enough to rival every beam of light that surrounds the sun. She hoists herself up against the ledge, shifting forward a bit more, and one of her heels slips from her foot and drops to the ground.

Oliver lets out a small chuckle, a gentle “ _ Careful, Felicity,”  _ flowing softly through the air. 

His voice swirls together with the warm evening breeze, its lyrical lilt melding almost seamlessly with the delicate notes of a distant piano. Oliver’s tone is playful, but the reverence in his expression holds an intensity that’s enough to level a building. __

Moira doesn’t have to wonder if Oliver knows that he looks at Felicity as if she had plucked the moon from the sky - as if she had spun the light of burning embers and Christmas stars and roaring fires into a sheath of armour that binds his heart.

It’s not a sentiment that can be known, at least not in the way that one knows the order of planets or the names of the seven seas. It’s one of those rare feelings that burns from the inside out, crashing through one’s blood and warming every single cell with a radiance that pulses in time with every single heartbeat.

Felicity waves a distracted hand in his direction, but Oliver’s own hovers right behind Felicity, his fingertips intentionally ghosting across her lower back. 

It’s a silent signal of assurance - a wordless safety net. It’s an unspoken lifeline at the ready to pull her back in case she slips.

It’s a promise, a vow of  _ I’ve got you  _ and  _ I won’t let you fall.  _

And he won’t.

Moira might not know much about the friendship that ties the two of them together, but  _ this  _ she knows deep in her bones. 

“Oliver, do you see them?” 

Felicity’s voice pulls Moira from her observations. 

“Remember, at the office -,” the excitement bubbling in Felicity’s voice is enough to once again draw the attention of the tables nearest them. “The ones that perch outside your window?  _ Remember?  _ -,”

“I do.” Oliver says softly, but everyone in the room can see that he doesn’t. He  _ can’t  _ possibly see anything at all because his gaze is fixed unflinchingly on the blonde woman standing right next to him. 

His eyes trace the slight upturn of her nose and the pout of her lips that stand out against the red stained sky, and Moira watches as Oliver lets out a slow and shaky breath.

Felicity turns to him then, her expression of fond exasperation quickly morphing into one of widened eyes and flushed cheeks and shy smiles. 

“You’re not even  _ looking, _ ” she scolds in a drawn out whisper. 

Oliver’s smile just broadens, his cheek dimpling even further as he presses his lips firmly together. He pulls in a long breath as Felicity’s gaze meets his own, his shoulders rising and chest expanding. 

Felicity rolls her eyes, content to ignore the slight blush that has tinted her cheeks. She grabs his face in her left hand, the tips of her fingers grazing softly against the slight stubble adorning his jaw, and gently tilts his gaze in the direction of the birds.

Oliver lets her maneuver his face – he lets her prod and poke him in the shoulder until he finally looks out to where she is pointing and he sees them – sees the same two blue birds that had been zipping around outside of their window at Queen Consolidated all week.

Frank and Jerry, Felicity had called them.

He knows they’re the same ones. His raptor like vision can see the way one of the talons on the smaller bird is bent harshly – can remember seeing the same feature on the bird at the office. Still, though, as rare as it is to see the same exact birds in a city as big as Starling, Oliver’s more impressed by the way Felicity’s face radiates brighter than the disappearing rays of the sun.

“Do you think they’re stalking us?”

Oliver lets out a surprised bark of laughter, Felicity’s blunt question pulling the sound from his chest like magic. He turns his gaze back towards the blonde, a grin lighting up his face at the sight of Felicity’s annoyed pout. 

“ _ Felicity _ ,” Oliver draws out in a low breath, laughter intertwined with every syllable. 

“Don’t patronize me Oliver,” Felicity hisses as she thumps a hand against his chest. Her eyebrows are pulled together to match her slight frown, but Oliver can see the way her lips battle against a hidden smile. “They could very well be spies for that weird bird man villain that you and Dig have been chasing for the past week. Maybe they’re the reason why you guys are always a step behind - ,”

“Aye, we are  _ not  _ a step behind, Felicity, we just can’t  _ fly away _ when we jump off of a rooftop - ,”

“As I said, a step behind,” Felicity nods. “Always. Without fail.”

Oliver blinks. 

“ _ You _ ,” he starts accusingly, “are being a little mean today.”

“Consequences, Oliver,” she whispers back with a grin. “There are consequences when our nighttime activities tire me out too much to make my nail appointments or catch up on all the shows piling up in my DVR.”

Felicity’s eyes widen.

“I don’t mean nighttime activities like - ,”

“Felicity,” Oliver laughs, and though Moira can’t exactly hear the conversation between the two, she’s startled by the sheer amount of smiles and laughter coming from Oliver this evening. “I know what you meant.”

“I’m glad you always do,” Felicity says softly, turning towards the birds again and closing her eyes as the last rays of sunlight warm her face. “My mouth normally drives people away, and I like being your friend. I like having you with me.”

Affection floods Oliver’s body as Felicity’s eyes widen again.

“I didn’t, I mean - ,”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Felicity turns a dumbfounded stare on him, taking in his sharply cut profile as he watches the birds dip behind a building. 

“I like having you with me too,” he finishes in a small whisper before turning to face Felicity.

The intensity in his gaze pulls a blush to Felicity’s cheeks, but her stare is as steadfast as his own, and their eyes remain locked for a good while before Felicity clears her throat and turns away with a shaky breath.

Oliver’s eyes remain on her, though, as if trying to memorize every little detail about the small blonde next to him, and even though the two are in their own little world at the edge of the rooftop, it’s as if there’s a magnetic field that surrounds them, pulling the attention of everyone in the room. 

“What’s their deal anyway?” Mr. Johnson’s grandson whispers from the end of the table, his eyes following the way Oliver bumps Felicity’s shoulder with his own before pointing off to something in the distance. 

“Felicity is Ollie’s best friend,” Thea says simply, as if stating a fact as true as the color of the sky or the number of seconds in a minute. She doesn’t even look up, too focused on piling the meatballs on her plate into a small tower. “He’d be lost without her, I think.”

“You know Miss Queen,” Mr. Johnson says softly, the smile on his face deepening the crinkles around his mouth and eyes. He looks out towards the edge of the rooftop to where Felicity sits perched on the edge, Oliver leaning forward against the stone watching Felicity’s everything as she speaks animatedly with a whirlwind of movement. 

“I had a best friend like Miss Smoak when I was younger.”

Thea pulls her head up from her masterpiece, her eyes darting to her brother before finding Mr. Johnson’s sparkling eyes. 

“What happened?”

Mr. Johnson leans back in his chair, flashing a fond look up at the sky before meeting Thea’s gaze. 

His eyes twinkle for a moment, years of life and memories and secrets rushing through them in a flurry of light, and winks at the youngest Queen.

“I married her.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please please please let me know what you think, you're comments give me the breath in my lungs ;) Love you all!


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